


The Posh Purple Pirate (Enter My Life and Make Me Drown)

by Loveismyrevolution



Series: PirateDragQueenVerse [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternative First Meeting, Do Not Copy To Any Other Site!, First Kiss, Hand Job, It's For a Case, John Watson is desperate, M/M, Pole Dancing, Sherlock is a drama queen, Sherlock is a pirate, Sherlock is an exotic dancer, Strangers to Lovers, lap dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 10:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveismyrevolution/pseuds/Loveismyrevolution
Summary: When Mike Stamford invited him to a fun night out, John Watson never expected it would become such a wild ride - captivated by an enigmatic pirate his life suddenly gains speed in an unexpected direction.





	The Posh Purple Pirate (Enter My Life and Make Me Drown)

**Author's Note:**

> Big squishy kisses to the two people who helped me get this story out of the depth of my drafts and into the light: my new found friend and enthousiastic beta reader @jobooksandcoffee and my dearest friend, cheerleader, beta and soulmate littleweedwrites (@shylockgnomes). All things weird and awful are all my fault and my lovely betas have nothing to do with it whatsoever... 
> 
> If you like some background music you might enjoy to listen to [this song](https://youtu.be/QXI46mwd6CQ) when the curtain rises.  
Pirate enters the scene to [this one](https://youtu.be/cDvH8rfuKyY) ...  
only to merge into [the last one](https://youtu.be/WMSoo4B2hFU) to honour the Captain...
> 
> Have fun!

John only played along so he wouldn't hurt his friend’s feelings. But actually, he thought, this was a really bad idea and he had no interest in it whatsoever.

It had been a chain reaction and he still didn’t know which point he would have been able to skip.

He surely hadn't expected _ this _ when he met his old med-school friend Mike at Regents Park, on that one day of all the days that he finally decided to leave his flat and join the world outside; still depressed, still seeing no purpose in life but also determined not to lose _ this _ fight, too. 

Bad enough that he was back home - whatever that meant - and cut off from all the things that really mattered to him; no longer on service in the army, no career as surgeon to go for, no family he could rely on, let alone any friends.

These were the things he had been complaining about talking to Mike sitting on a park bench, sipping at his coffee.

“Life’s no fun at the moment, you know? It’s always the same, day in, day out. I could really use some distraction… but honestly… who would like me as company. Especially for… ya know… a man has urges. Even a broken one as me.” He let out an unhappy chuckle staring at the void. “But who’d even want me?”

Mike looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before a little smirk crossed his lips, there and gone.

“I think I know exactly what you’d need.”

“What’s that?”

But he never got an answer and only a glimmer of mischief sparkled in Mike's eyes.

That’s how he found himself surrounded by some old friends - very old and some he’d never been even close with - and some army mates on leave or discharged and injured home same as he himself.

By now, he had an inkling where this evening would lead to, but he had absolutely no need to let that happen. If this was the glorious idea Mike has had then… no, thank you very much.

He would play along, smile when expected and leave as soon as possible to return to his bedsit. And add this to the long list of “unsuccessful experiments”. Back to normal, back to boring, back to depressing then.

The moment he limped inside the club, leaning heavily on his walking cane, he regretted even more that he had come. 

Dark corners, flashing lights, smokey air, booming music, a crowded bar, a stage across the room. There were tables in front of the stage and a dancing area in the back of the room.

John desired nothing of it. This would be a long, long night.

One of the guys grabbed his upper arm and dragged him along and with a sigh John followed as well as he was able to at his hoply pace. He was unaware of the knowing grin spreading on Mike’s lips walking behind John. 

Some of the guys picked a drink from the bar, John declined, and then they settled in some of the chairs at a table close to the stage. John didn’t know what to expect, but he could imagine. Not the first time he’d been to such an establishment though. But this was really not the kind of fun he had meant. 

_“Well then, just try to enjoy and get out as soon as possible.” _he told himself and settled in his chair.

The sitting area became more and more crowded and there was some hustle around the stage. After a moment a low ting seemed to announce something, the music faded and the lights dimmed. All eyes turned to the stage and John had to admit that he too watched with some curious anticipation.

Suddenly the stage was brightly lit by a spotlight and the curtain was drawn, revealing some weird decoration. A fisherman's net, a barrel, even a stuffed parrot on a branch and a Jolly Roger in the back.

Well, that was unexpected. And different from all the other times he'd watched such a performance. 

“_But still, bit silly that,” _ John thought stubbornly when something gleaming caught his attention.

A dancing pole, center stage.

_ “Well, maybe this would be okay after all,'' _John reconsidered with some excitement.

A smaller curtain in the background was raised with a swish and a in a cloud of fumes and mist a figure was hiding in the shadows. A slow deep humming music started playing, the creaking of ropes and masts. In the background, the person waiting, not moving.

_ “Must be a drama queen with such an opening,'' _John rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. The chuckle died on his lips the moment the figure took one step forward and moved into the light accompanied by the roaring thunder of firing cannons. 

There up on that stage… that was a creature of beauty. John let his gaze roam over that body unashamedly. Feet in black high heels, laced up to just above the knees, crisscrossing over the endless long lean legs covered in black lace, which was thin and see through as spiderwebs. The stockings' seams were held up by black suspenders, disappearing under a very short skirt, a bit longer at the back. Black, leather, layered with lace.

John swallowed. Maybe Mike was right and this could be fun after all, just for tonight. At least it wouldn’t hurt to watch.

Raising his gaze further up over the slim waist which was clad in a corset of dark purple velvet tightly laced and reaching towards the seam which fitted snugly over the smooth curve of the well formed breasts of perfect size. John forgot to breathe for a moment.

The corset was decorated with metal buttons and refined embroidery and hung with solid chains. According to the theme of the arrangement a small sabre was hanging from a thin leather belt slung around that fragile waist, directing John's gaze to the perfectly pronounced backside by bouncing slightly against it. John began sweating the moment he discovered even a pair of ancient looking handcuffs fixed to a ring at the hip.

To make matters worse the ensemble was rounded off by a skintight sleeveless lace blouse, high-necked only to emphasise the indecently pale skin of a delicately long neck. John stared so hard he could even make out a pattern of moles he’d very much like to lick and taste, up to the point just below the ear, which was partly hidden by shiny dark curls. John internally cursed the ridiculous pirate’s hat hiding the rest of that dark chocolate hair; he’d love to see it and imagine to run his fingers through that mob of unruly curls. Oh, it must feel heavenly to let it slide through his fingers, scraping his nails slightly over the sensitive scalp.

God, he needed to stop drooling over a custom dancer, stripper, whatever girl this was. It had come far with him if this was the fulfillment of his wildest dreams. Wasn’t it ridiculous actually? What a cheap tactic to gain the attention of desperate men.

John tried really hard to not let himself be pulled into this game of Miss Pirate, but he failed tremendously.

He was gone irrevocably the moment he laid eyes on her face. Alien features, stunningly beautiful in an indescribable way, dark purple painted full lips, looking so soft and sinful all together, sharp cheekbones highlighted by just a slight shimmer of rose-golden rouge and eyes… eyes that made John’s heart stutter. Eyes surrounded by artfully drawn eyeliner and shadow in the same shade of purple, pronouncing their almond-shape, framed by long dark lashes, which had to be fake, John was almost sure. 

Eyes so shining; the irises a colour he couldn’t quite figure out. Was it blue? Green? Grey? It was like a merge of the morning sky with spring meadow and November fog. Confusing. Stunning.

He felt the urge to find out, to study them until he knew. To look as close and as long as he liked and to memorise each little shade until he could find a name.

Staring at these eyes he realised that they were staring back, with a piercing gaze. An amused look crinkled the corners of her eyes lightly and a smirk twitched on her lips. But being all professional she turned away, focusing her attention on another guest.

_ “Probably giving everyone the same intense look to make them feel special,'' _John realised, closing his mouth which had dropped open anywhere along the way.

Slowly the music was fading back in in John’s awareness, a wary ethereal pirate theme, the underlying beat supporting the maddening movements of Miss Pirate.

Her back turned to the audience now, she threw a cheeky grin over her shoulder before turning her head, throwing her head back, making the silly hat fly across the stage. Running her hands slowly and teasing through her hair she made him swallow hard; it was as gorgeous as John had imagined.

Her hips began swaying slightly, turning little frustrating circles, just not enough to mean anything, when she then lifted one leg and placed her foot high heel and all on the barrel next to her. It looked as if she had defeated and captured the barrel and John would have been happy to change places.

_ “Really, Watson, keep it together. This is insane. Are you that desperate?” _ John scolded himself, but nonetheless he couldn’t tear his look away from the capturing creature on stage.

She now ran her fingers along her neck, down her chest, cupping her breast with her hands and pausing there for the tiniest moment. One couldn’t hear above the music, but one could imagine the little moan escaping her throat. After a very little squeeze of her breasts, which drove John mad, she continued her path sliding her exquisite hands down her belly. John held his breath about what was to come.

_ “About what to come? More like who to come! _” He huffed mentally. If she continued like this, it would be a close call for him, just watching.

His mouth went dry when she slowly caressed her hips to reach behind and cup her butt on top of her skirt. Leaning slightly forwards and sliding her palms across the round curve of her buttocks she made her skirt shift the slightest bit revealing the hint of a tiny lace panty covering well rounded plush arse cheeks.

Turning around she let the skirt fall back down and walked gracefully across the stage in long slow strides, reveling in stretching her endlessly long legs. Her hands coquettishly on her hips which swayed from side to side with each step, making the handcuffs clack with the motion, reminding John relentlessly of their existence.

With the music now thrumming she stopped near the edge of the stage in front of John and the group of men. It was where her hat had landed. By accident? Intentionally? John didn't dare to make a guess… 

Bending down full of relish she reached for it, the lace of her shirt hindering a glance at her decoleté just so. She leaned so deep that her backside was revealed to the back of the stage, teasingly out of sight for everyone, reminder of her lace panties. Raising again, propping the hat back onto the silky curls, she cast a seductive little glance at John from under her long lashes. She snapped her hips to get her skirt back in place and with just two steps backwards she grabbed behind to get hold of the dancing pole.

Spinning around in lightening speed she folded herself around the pole and let herself spin with the motion. With the music speeding up she stopped abruptly, raising one leg to bend it and hook it around the pole. Her hips started moving slightly and John realised that she had started to roll her pelvis and grind herself against the pole.

He felt heat pool deep in his belly and his pulse started speeding up. He shifted in his chair, sitting becoming uncomfortable with the growing tightness in his trousers.

Meanwhile Miss Pirate had bend her neck, head resting back on her nape, curls swaying freely and a slack expression of pleasure on her face. Her dark purple lips slightly parted, puffing little breaths, eyes closed, looking as if detached from this world and her performance.

Johns eyes were glued to this expression when she raised her head and her eyes snapped open and immediately locked with his. 

Never leaving his eyes, Miss Pirate planted both her feet on the stage again and ran her now free right hand down her front, sliding over one of the firm breasts and along a flat stomach heaving from heavy breathing only to stop at her groin and to cup herself through the layers of leather and lace of her skirt. 

Holding her hand in place she started bending her knees and sliding down and further down in slow motion, her hand-cupped groin rubbing along the shiny dancing pole until she ended in a crouching position. Heightened by her heels it gave a free view under her skirt, suspenders straining along pale skin, stretched and ready to snap. The black lace of her panty just that sort of non-transparent that heightened the effort to catch a glimpse of forbidden territory underneath. But most of the desired sight was hidden behind a slender hand with spidery long fingers holding the Pirate's most delicate part. 

Unrestrained want uncoiled in John's lower abdomen, raising up to tighten his chest, making it uneasy to breath and fog his mind when the intoxicating beauty on the stage started to raise her pelvic only to slide down again in a rocking motion. Slowly making her way back up again until she was standing once more, pressed against the pole. It purses between her breasts, emphasising the soft curves even more and made John's mouth water. 

One hand left the pole and moved towards her mouth, fingers resting on her lower lip and gliding from one side to the other until she slid two of them in her mouth. 

John groaned. He didn't know if anyone heard him, but at this point he couldn't contain himself anymore and he couldn't care less.

Holding her weight with her one hand she curled the fingers of the other one, now damp from her mouth, around the pole, slowly sliding it up and down adding tiny twisting motions of her wrist; relishing the solid material of the pole. 

John's cock twitched in deepest sympathy and jealousy of the rigid rod in her hands. _ "God… jealous of an inanimate object… Watson, restrain yourself!" _

John felt the beat of the music thrum through every fiber of his body, matching the hammering pulse flushing in his veins and throbbing in his groin.

He could barely stand it when her tongue darted out between beautiful white teeth and traced the shape of her upper lip slowly.

John could see her tongue glistening from salvia and couldn’t push back the thought of this delicious mouth, this tong wrapped around his cock, slick from her salvia and his precome…

He let out a stuttering breath when she, as if reading his thoughts, closed the distance to the pole and pointed her tongue. Still holding John's gaze she ran it along the shiny metal of the pole, little flicks and long stripes up and down. 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a moment, just to gain back a little self-restraint, to get back his breath under control and to prevent himself from coming in his pants this very instant.

Trying to clear his thoughts he opened his eyes again, only to find the object of his desire crawling across the stage exactly in his direction.

Shit, this wasn’t helping. And sure as hell it wasn’t helping that she still held his gaze, fluttering her lashes from time to time, seductively lowered her head, lips a little pouted and wearing a wicked little smirk.

A feline predator approaching their prey.

At this point John couldn’t deny his burning arousal and his rock hard erection any longer. He only hoped that it was somehow covered by his loosely hanging shirt and folded hands in his lap and… well actually there wasn't anything else. 

He just hoped everyone else was as captured by this performance as he himself and didn’t notice his state.

He wasn’t aware of the knowing grins of his friends and his blushed face that gave him away. To be fair he wasn’t the only one flustered and agitated. 

But he didn’t notice and he didn’t care, because that exact moment, the catlike woman sat and swung her legs smoothly over the edge of the stage.

Damn. Why had they chosen a seat this close to the stage. Fuck.

He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry as he realised that Miss Pirate was slinking her way in his direction, swaying her hips provokingly with each stride. But he was frozen in place so he did neither, apart from sinking a bit deeper into his chair.

As if she had only eyes for him she made her way through the audience, ignoring all the thirsty gazes of the drooling men aching for her. 

She reached him and without hesitation slid her hand into the hair at his nape and pulled hard so that he had to bend his neck and look up at the gorgeous creature hovering above him. 

God, that girl was tall. All long limbs and slender body, heightened by the ridiculous high heels.

When she bend forwards to him her smell took his breath away. 

An earthy, warm, exclusive scent, a hint of fresh sweat underneath. An intoxicating mix, dark and mysterious.

When her face came closer still, he thought that she might kiss him, but all she did was run her nose along his exposed neck, the lightest caress to his over-sensitive skin along his pulse line, and inhaled deeply. Her eyes fluttered closed and John watched in awe and confusion. 

Why had this godly creature chosen him out of all the audience?

And just the moment John thought that she might move on she stepped forward, placed her legs on each side of his own and lowered herself slowly onto his lap. 

John took in a sharp breath, flinched his hands away from his lap so that she wouldn’t sit on them. Eyes widening in bewilderment, he couldn't quite understand what was happening.

All the while the music kept roaring, his mates cheered loudly; John didn’t notice any of this. 

He clenched his hands around the corners of his seat, tried to hold on for dear life, not able to think one coherent thought. He could feel her body warmth seeping through the fabric of his trousers, only adding to the heat pooling underneath. His body was on fire and he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to stand it.

She waited a short moment for any reaction then she raised her hands, moving slowly, hesitantly, expecting rejection?

She moved her fingers to the top button of his shirt and flipped the first button through the hole. John shivered, even though he could burst from the heat rising to his face, fully aware of the small patch of skin revealed by his open collar. When no rejection came, Miss Pirate seemed to be encouraged and made work of the other buttons, cherishing each new bit of skin laid free by running her short but well-manicured nails, painted in the same deep purple shade as her lipstick, across his skin, causing shivers all over his body.

Flipping open the last button she shoved the fabric of his shirt aside to lay his upper body bare.

John hissed. He wasn’t confident enough to reveal what was hidden under his shirt yet. But what could he do? Stand up, run away, lie down in a corner and cry? Ridiculous!

So he prayed to God that she wouldn’t slip the shirt off of his shoulders and tried to stay calm.

She splayed her hands across his pecs and he saw a glimmer of… what… thrill?... excitement?... want?... flash her gaze when she laid eyes on the dog tags he was still wearing out of habit. 

She lifted the cord holding them with one delicate finger, running it down the chain while making sure she was still gliding across his skin. It made the tags rattle and he could feel more than hear the ragged breath she was taking in.

Splaying her hands again and gliding towards his sides, his shoulders, surely with the intention to get rid of his shirt, her right hand stopped it’s trail abruptly at the most vulnerable piece of his whole body. John let his head drop forward. He didn’t know what to expect.

One finger explored the tender skin, the wrecked, badly healed, scarred flesh, which made him feel inferior, which had caused all his current misery. 

He breathed shallowly, her finger kept drawing small circles along the seam of his scar. None of their other muscles moved. 

She sat frozen and John feared that she would leap up in disgust. He didn’t dare to look up until one long slim finger slid under his chin, raising his face so that he was forced to look into her eyes.

She held his gaze for a moment. He could detect no single sign of disgust or shock or even pity. All he could see was curiosity, tenderness, even awe. John was stunned and relieved and it made his heart jump.

Even more so when she leaned over, pressing her plush lips against the shell of his ear, tongue darting out, flicking his earlobe. He felt a new rush of blood draining to his lower parts, leaving his brain, making it impossible to think.

Still clutching his chair, knuckles white from tension he was awfully aware of the obvious bulge in his trousers currently pressing into one of her thighs. He immediately doubted that snapping his hands away had been such a good decision after all.

But her only reaction was a grin spreading her lips and her hands sliding down his lower arms. She loosened his grip, laced their fingers together and raised his hands to her mouth. A hint of a kiss blown onto his trembling fingers and she lowered them again to place them on both sides of her hips. 

The whole time her eyes didn’t leave John’s. He was enraptured by the shifting colours, like an evening lake changing colour in the dusk. He couldn’t look away; her eyes scanning back and forth between his own, her look intense. He was hypnotised by these dark framed, sparkling, deep pools.

Her hands came up from her hips after slowly tracing his pulse with her fingertips and folded behind his neck.

When she closed her eyes again and threw her shoulders back in a circling motion, rolling her head, exposing that maddening sinful neck, John’s mind went blank.

He gripped her hips hard. He was afraid that it would leave bruises even through the fabric of her skirt.

The motion made her hips slide forward and John could feel the rising pressure on his groin. His cock twitched in anticipation.

The moment he felt something hard pressed against his penis, he let out an audible gasp.

An equally hard cock slid along his own length and spiked his arousal.

Hidden underneath that indecent, tempting and very feminine leather skirt was a rock hard cock pressed against his groin, grinding through the layers of fabric, through worn denim and thin lace. 

John's mind was spinning. He looked at that beautiful face in front of him, velvety purple lips, accentuated cheekbones, dark rimmed eyes closed in bliss and he couldn't bring it together with the sensation currently spreading and manifesting itself in his lap. 

He felt his own cock thicken even more and an answering twitch from underneath layers of black leather and lace. 

This had no right to feel this good. This. Right here. 

When had he ever been with men. Apart from the regular encounters in the army? But they had been necessary, they had been common. Yes, he had enjoyed them but had never given them a second thought. But this… this was something else altogether.

His hips lifted involuntary, his throbbing cock chasing more friction. The thought of a lace covered erection pressed against his own made him groan. 

The capturing eyes snapped back to his.

He could see that the look she was giving him was more heated, heavy lidded, dazed. So he was not the only one who was affected by this.

But was she a she? Or a he? Or something else altogether? He decided he didn’t care. This person currently captioning all his senses was the most gorgeous creature, the most fascinating human being he had ever seen in his whole life. Who cared what label they gave themselves?_ “Don't give me labels,” _ John thought. “_It's all fine!” _

Maybe deciphering his thoughts on his features, maybe not caring at all, maybe just to continue their game, the Pirate lent forward, increasing the pressure on their cocks. 

Clutching John's dog tags with one hand, steadying themselves with the other on his thigh, they puffed warm breaths against John's ear and murmured: “All the nice girls love a soldier.”

The low silky baritone voice came as a surprise but oddly suited the exotic creature. It ran down John's spine like warm honey.

With a last merciless snap of their hips, the Pirate ripped John's dog tags from his neck, rolling their pelvis to give John's cock one last tease and taste of what could have been, nearly tipping John over the edge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling, exhaling, shallowly.

He felt the weight lift from his lap, feeling the loss of their weight and warmth painfully and the cold empty air taking its place felt like a punch in his gut. 

Opening his eyes again he saw the beauty striding away from him, their heavenly lips pressed in a firm kiss on his dog tags. They winked at him, throwing a cheeky smile over their shoulder. 

But seeing them stride along the rest of the audience, tracing jawlines with their fingers, throwing little cheeky kisses from their delicate hands, John realised that he had absolutely no idea how long this little encounter with his personal Pirate had taken. It had felt forever but it could just as well have been mere seconds. 

Nobody seemed to look suspicious, nobody watched him or laughed at him. So it must have been standard procedure then? 

John was still staring dumbfounded at the now closed curtains where his Pirate had disappeared, when a gentle touch at his shoulder made him jump. 

Another whisper in his ear. For his ears only. Mike. 

“Yeah, he's always like that.” 

John's eyes popped up, searching for Mike's, wide open in shock; but Mike only winked slightly at him, chuckling to himself and turned to head to the bar.

The other mates where roaring in the background.

“What the fuck, Watson… you lucky son of a bitch!” one of them yelled.

“Wahoohooo…” another of them cheered. “Jezus… that chick… right Watson? What would I give to get my hands under that skirt!” he added, illustrating his intentions with the fitting suggesting moves of his pelvis.

_ “I bet you'd be amazed at what you’d find,” _ John thought, giggling silently to himself. 

A hard slap at his left shoulder, the bad one, of course, made him realise the proximity of the other guys. 

He hastened to button up his shirt again; to cover his chest and scars and to hide the evidence of his current state.

He cleared his throat and looked up at his mates.

“You coming John?” they asked already half turned to leave? Questioning eyes fixed on him.

“Uhhh… yeah. No. I mean… uh. Going home. I think? Yeah.” he nodded to himself. _ “Very eloquent, Watson” _he scolded himself, rolling his eyes internally.

“Don't wait for me. I'll… yeah… cab.” he pointed with his thumb in a vague direction over his shoulder.

A filthy knowing grin spread across the others faces.

“Get it mate.” one of them said, barely containing himself. “Take… care, then” he added with a much to obvious wink, padded the other guys on the shoulders and they left to get a drink. Or leave. Or whatever. John didn't care.

All he cared about was how he could get out as soon as possible without attracting any attention. Which would be a challenge with his rumpled shirt, messed up hair, burning cheeks, and ragged breathing anyway. Wouldn't there also be the difficulty to walk with a raging boner like he had never experienced before in his life currently hiding in his much too tight denims.

So when he thought nobody was watching he stumbled to his feet, searching desperately for any sign for the restrooms and making his way as fast as possible in the pointed direction. 

His release within reach, literally, hand on the door handle to the gents, he heard a much too familiar smooth voice coming out of the shadows.

“Need any help? With that?” 

And before he could think twice, let alone answer, he was dragged into the small corridor next to him and was pinned against the wall. 

In the darkness he could still make out his gorgeous Pirate, a gown thrown over the costume, still wearing makeup, no heels any more. But nonetheless they were hovering high above John in this standing position. 

John had to look up and even if he could barely see in the dimly lit corridor he was once again captured by the piercing eyes. The stranger kept him in place, one hand pinning his right shoulder, the good one, against the wall while the other hand made its way down between both their bodies. 

Short puffs of hot breath ghosting over his face made his skin prickle. 

John wanted to lean in, to taste, to devour that mysterious creature in front of him, but they kept their distance, always just out of reach but close enough to feel - breaths, the body warmth, the scent, the tension. 

In the meanwhile the hand had reached the waistband of his jeans, hastily unhooking his belt, flipping open the button and lowering the zip with relish.

John sucked in a sharp breath when said hand slipped into his trousers, even his pants, without any hesitation. 

His body started to tremble when long fingers wrapped around his pulsing prick and took a firm hold of it. The fist enclosed him completely and it was nearly too much to bear; the heat, the pressure, the feeling of another person's skin against his own over-sensitive flesh.

When the hand started pumping his erection, he threw his head back. It thumped hard against the wall and he couldn't hinder the muffled cry that escaped his throat. It didn't take long; he felt the pleasure and heat build immediately; too many impressions, to many sensations had coiled up this evening and now urged to burst free. 

Only a couple of strokes later, not able to warn the other, he could only gasp before seeing stars, feeling his chest tighten, as he was coming hard, spilling on the strangers hand and his own shirt and trousers. Wave after wave of pleasure ripped through him and his come kept spurting with each tease and stroke the Pirate gave his cock to guide him through his orgasm.

“Oh my god,'' he whispered even though he wanted to scream it out loud, for the whole world to witness the miracle that just happened to him. “Oh my god”, just a breath, barely words at all.

"Not quite." Was the low chuckling answer he got.

~~~~~~~~

When he finally came down from his high, panting hard, head still restring against the wall, he realised that the stranger was gone. Left without so much as a word. Vanished into thin air. John hadn't even noticed. 

And if John wouldn't have the evidence of this encounter stuck on his clothes, he would have doubted it had ever happened. It was too good to be true.

Searching the hallway with his eyes he couldn't detect anything, anyone, no sign of life. 

So he sighed and when he trusted his hormone-flooded wobbly legs enough to carry his weight, he rearranged his clothes, tugged his now flaccid but sticky cock away and made his way to the restrooms to clean up as well as possible. He was lucky to be alone and so he took his time, trying to comprehend what had happened. 

He hadn't expected anything of this evening and now he had been seduced by the most beautiful dancer and his first encounter with another person since what felt like forever had been with a Pirate in a dark hallway. A special Pirate. An amazing and quite extraordinary Pirate. 

He would have laughed about this craziness his evening had turned into wouldn't he have been blown away by that gorgeous creature he had just met. 

He felt the urge to look for them, to run after them and to learn more about them. He wanted to be near them, to tell them they were amazing and reciprocate the favour. Make them feel good, make them feel cherished. 

John leaned heavy on the edge of the sink and stared into the mirror. He looked at himself; his tired eyes with deep shadows and tear sacs underneath, his tanned but nonetheless ashen skin colour, his sandy-gray hair in a hideous non-style haircut. 

He huffed and frowned at himself. Who'd ever want to be with him. Definitely not such an outstandingly beautiful and interesting human being. Probably they had lovers queuing up for them, able to choose and taking advantage of some willing fool every now and then. Yeah… that's what John was, he thought. Just a fool, not being worth anyone's company, just having unrealistic hopes.

Deflated he left the gents and headed for the bar. A drink was exactly what he needed now to calm his thoughts and his silly heart. His friends had long left and he climbed a chair at the bar and ordered just anything strong. He didn’t care. 

Rolling the tumbler with expensive whiskey he actually couldn’t afford between his palms, he tried to stretch the time as long as possible before he had to make his inevitable way back to his lonely bedsit. 

“_Time to look for something else,'' _he thought. London was too expensive for his small army pension. And who would want him as a flatmate.

When he couldn’t drag it any longer he stood, paid, nodded to the barkeeper and left the club. 

Outside he was greeted by a cold night breeze. He turned the corner of the club to stand just out of the wind and lean against the wall a bit to look up. The sky was clear and a thousand stars were reflecting their light towards earth. It had always fascinated him; astrology. Even more so after the beautiful skies of the Afghanan dessert, which were so different from all he knew. “_Pirate skies” _, he thought. 

Oh damn, he had to stop this. 

He pulled up his coat and just wanted to start walking, when he heard a rumbling voice from above him.

“You took your time.”

John spun around and gaped up. Eyes widening when he saw his stranger slouching casually on the edge of the flat roof of the club, holding a cigarette between long fingers with nails still painted, and lazily blowing smoke into the air. Why was this making his heart jump?

“So, a Captain it is then?” The pirate continued when John didn't speak.

The Pirate wasn’t a pirate anymore though. High heels had given way to shiny black leather dress shoes. The costume was gone, no breasts, just a flat chest. Amazed John realised that he didn't care.

Also there was a dark blue slim cut suit with underneath a white dress shirt, visible under a dark woolen coat which was pooling around the figure on the roof. 

The dark curls a bit damp as after a shower, the fake lashes removed, the lips in their natural colour but no less sinful.

But when the gaze of said creature once again turned in John’s direction, he could detect the remnants of dark eyeliner around the eyes, accenting them just so that it made a shiver run down John’s spine. 

How could this be even more sexy than what he had just experienced in the club? 

John was so enraptured by the stranger that he was lost for words. But when they stood up with an eyebrow raised in a mocking gesture, John hurried to stutter: “Yes. But… why.. I… How did you know?” John shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other . 

“Easy.” The stranger said dismissively while they adjusted their clothing. “Dog tags.” 

Oh, of course. John cringed a bit in embarrassment. 

When they kept standing on the roof, beautifully lit by the moon in the background, John asked in an attempt to joke:

“And you? You’re a pirate then?” 

John startled when in this moment his Pirate-non-pirate jumped from the roof, all grace and ease, coat billowing behind them, and landed at John’s feet. Raising to their full height and needlessly, teasingly ruffled their hair, they said in a low voice, holding John's gaze: “No. Consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job.” And when John failed to answer, just staring, they added: “And very much male, if you wondered.” 

John chuckled a bit helplessly at the man, as he could now address him correctly, was standing much too close for John to think clearly. 

“But what ...?” were the only words John could think of to ask, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the club’s front door.

“Heard of the term ‘drag queen’ before?” the stranger asked with a tad annoyance in his voice, accompanied by an unnecessarily dramatic eye roll. 

“Yeah… yeah… of course!” John hurried to defend himself. “That was not what I… No. No, I didn't mean…” he huffed. Shaking his head a bit he chuckled and looked up at the man. 

“I mean… it's all fine! You do this then, regularly?”

“Case, this time. Obviously.” The man kept standing close.

“Case?” John squeaked.

“Yes.” was the only thing he answered. 

Taking one step closer and looking down at John he asked: “Any more questions?”, in the same deep silky voice John had already had the pleasure to hear earlier that evening.

He raised his hand and slid it along John’s neck to his nape and held it there gently, looking at John expectantly.

“No.” John whispered, not able to think of anything in this moment, when they moved closer. “And actually it’s Doctor.” He didn’t know where this was coming from. “Doctor John Watson.” he murmured the moment the soft lips of this absolutely intoxicating man covered his own in a daring and passionate kiss. 

He felt the heat of the tender skin of these plush lips against his own small ones and he had no time to make conscious decisions before he gasped at the feeling of that wet tongue he had dreamed of, flicking and sliding against his lips.

The detective taking advantage of his reaction pushed desperately into John’s willing mouth. John melted at the feeling of the hot tongue sliding against his own, caressing and exploring every single bit of John's mouth it could reach. John’s body tingled, he tried to breath, desperate to sense and value every single second of this moment. But he was swept away by the force that was this man, that was the pleasure and heat he was experiencing. He tried to gasp for air but he was drowning, drowning in his own feelings, drowning in the moment - he wished to never surface again if it meant for this to be over. 

When they finally parted, both panting and faces flushed, John became aware that he was held up by strong arms, his legs weak as jelly. He was embarrassed, but the man pulled im only closer, studying his face earnestly.

Puffing warm breaths against Johns still wet lips he asked: “How d’you feel about the violin?”

Feeling confused John frowned and said: “I’m sorry, what?”

Still holding John tight, holding onto him as if being afraid of letting go, the detective added: “I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Potential flatmates should know the worst of each other.”

“Who’s saying something about flatmates?” John couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening to him.

“_I _ do.” The man said matter of fact. Now taking some distance to John, but still holding his hand firmly he stated: “You’re a doctor. In fact you’re an Army doctor.”

John didn’t know where this was going, so he answered hesitantly: “Yes,” the question mark at the end clearly sensable.

“Any good?” The look into his eyes intense and daring. 

“_Very _ good.” John confirmed convinced in at least that part of his abilities. He raised his head to show that he accepted whatever game this man was playing. 

“Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths.” dropping his voice and his gaze he looked at John from under his lashes as if trying to seduce John in this bizarre way exactly fitting this insanely attractive man.. 

Internally John chuckled. As if that was even necessary. This creature had wrapped him around his little finger already. So he only answered vaguely: “Mmm, yes.” 

“Bit of trouble too, I bet.” Was there some hope resonating in that otherwise so self-assured voice? John even thought to see a little sparkle in the capturing eyes.

He tilted his head to his side in curiosity, and now he could see the gleam of excitement glimmer in the eyes of that gorgeous man. With his heart beating faster he said: “Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.”

Barely able to hold himself back the man in front of him asked: “Wanna see some more?” John could feel him nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was endearing.

“Oh _ God_, yes.” John answered happily with all the passion he felt rising in that moment.

A wide grin spread across the detective’s face and he turned to rush away, keeping hold of John’s hand and pulling him along: “Come on then, John!” he all but shouted.

All John wanted was to rush after him, but he tugged on that warm hand in his and pulled the man back.

“Is that it?” John asked. 

“Is that what?” The man asked back, a bit irritated and… anxious?

John had to smile at the extraordinary and enthralling but at the same time so lovely and endearing creature in front of him.

“We’ve only just met and we're going to... what... live together?” he asked, making sure to add some teasing to his voice.

The stranger smirked. “Problem?” he rumbled, dropping his voice even more and taking one step to close the distance between them.

“I don’t even know your name.” John whispered, being sure that it wouldn’t matter anyway what the answer would be.

“The name is Sherlock Holmes. And our address will be 221B Baker Street.” Sherlock murmured and leaned down to seal their lips again. Much softer this time, tender and caring and with the certainty of this not being over. He only briefly let go of John to mumble: “We'll get your cane later.”

John hummed his agreement only now realising he left his cane hanging from the backrest of his chair in the club. 

“But... you know... you could have kept your handcuffs,” he smirked and wrapped his arms around this mysterious Pirate-Detective that somehow chose him out of all people. 

He realised in that very moment that he would follow this man everywhere. Sherlock Holmes had entered his life...

~~~~~~~~

And here some visuals of Sherlock's outfit:

this corsage in dark purple (like the purple shirt of sex)

this blouse (to cover the fake décolleté of course)

his stockings

and his heels

and the last: his make-up

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my first attempt to writing fanfic. (actually second, but the other one doesn't count!!! Fandom friends silliness XD)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Lots of love,  
me <3


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